


Joy Ride

by PhoenixGryffin



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Babies, Canon Compliant, F/F, Femslash Exchange, Fluff, Kissing, Pregnancy, joyriding, paintings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixGryffin/pseuds/PhoenixGryffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We <i>have</i> to do this again,” says Amethyst.<br/>“Absolutely,” says Vidalia.<br/><i>Ma-yor Dew-ey, May-or Dew-ey,</i> says the van.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joy Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panqueques](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panqueques/gifts).



Vidalia’s never felt quite so inspired before.

She’d tried to be an artist earlier in her life, but back then she’d mostly been dabbling in landscapes, opting to stay away from things that could move. Living, breathing things were complex; it was impossible to capture their personalities, _really_ capture them, on her canvas, so there was no point in trying. Eventually, frustrated with how boring all her paintings were, she’d given up art entirely.

Then the _Mr. Universe_ van had arrived, and she’d had that whole thing with Marty. It had been a mistake, especially after he'd abruptly skipped town one night without saying goodbye or _anything_. What a scumbag.

But it had worked out alright. She’d met Greg, and through Greg she’d met Amethyst, her new artistic muse and best friend.

Amethyst was something else—literally. It was rumored that she and her Gem friends were aliens; Vidalia hadn’t known whether or not to believe that, so she’d never bothered to ask Amethyst about it. But even if Amethyst hadn’t been a maybe-alien, Vidalia would still have loved her. There was just something so _alive_ in her, something that was full of vigor and vitality, and Vidalia had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame from the moment she and Amethyst had first met. By comparison, nearly everyone else in Vidalia’s life had been so boring, so flat. Not Amethyst, though. Never her.

So Vidalia had decided to return to art, this time using Amethyst as a role model.

Unfortunately, Amethyst is not and has never been a patient individual.

“Are you _done_ yet?” groans Amethyst, slumping her shoulders. “It’s been _hours_.”

“It’s only been twenty minutes,” says Vidalia. “I’ve barely started the basic outline of your body, let alone begun the detail work.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not,” Vidalia replies, laughing at the horrified expression on Amethyst’s face. “But tell you what—sit through this, and then I promise we can take a break in an hour or two and go do something else.”

“Like what?”

Vidalia shrugs. “Whatever you want.” Once she says that, a mischievous gleam appears in Amethyst’s eyes, and Vidalia wonders if maybe she’s spoken too soon. But it’s too late—Vidalia _did_ promise, after all.

So that’s how they end up joyriding in Mayor Dewey’s van. Neither of them know what all the buttons on the dashboard do, so they careen around the streets of Beach City at fifty miles per hour while the giant mayor’s head on top of the van shrilly blares _May-or Dew-ey, May-or Dew-ey_ over and over again.

Vidalia, at the wheel, shouts at Amethyst to _do something for God’s sake_ —she actually shouts even more than that, but most of the expletives are drowned out by the van’s repetitive proclamation of their mayor’s name.

“I’m _trying_!” whines Amethyst. “Look, I didn’t realize this yelling thing was automatic—”

“Surely there’s some way to turn it off?” Vidalia asks, turning the van around a corner at much too high of a speed—the tires screech, a kid on the curb screams and runs away, and for a heart-stopping moment Vidalia thinks the thing’s going to flip. It doesn’t, thank goodness, but it’s much too close of a call for comfort.

Vidalia drives the mayoral van out of the city, off the roads entirely, and onto the sand near the place where Amethyst lives. She stops much too fast, jerking both her and Amethyst forward against the seat belt. Rubbing her whiplashed shoulder ruefully, Vidalia kills the ignition, but the van continues repeating its propaganda over and over again.

Amethyst and Vidalia sit perfectly still, listening to the sound of _May-or Dew-ey, May-or Dew-ey_ all around them.

“Well,” says Vidalia after a long pause, “that was—that was definitely something.”

“Definitely something? Are you kidding me? That was _awesome_!” Amethyst, apparently undaunted by whiplash, unbuckles her seat buckle, opens the door, and jumps out onto the ground. Vidalia follows suit, massaging her shoulder as she does so. The two of them carefully climb onto the top of the van and sit there next to the Mayor Dewey head.

“We _have_ to do this again,” says Amethyst.

“Absolutely,” says Vidalia.

 _Ma-yor Dew-ey, May-or Dew-ey,_ says the van.

“Shut _up_ ,” says Amethyst, and she hits the giant Mayor Dewey head right on its nose. The noise immediately stops.

“Well,” Vidalia says, “that worked.”

And then they’re laughing, laughing longer and harder than Vidalia’s ever laughed in a long time. She glances over at Amethyst, who’s shaking, eyes closed and body contorted from the force of all her laughter. In that moment, Vidalia doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

They eventually return the van, hoping against hope that no one mentions the infringement to Mayor Dewey. Or at least Vidalia hopes so—Amethyst doesn’t seem to care.

“When you’ve been around for as long as _I_ have,” begins Amethyst, shapeshifting into a crotchety-looking old man that looks suspiciously similar to the current Mayor Dewey (Vidalia starts laughing before Amethyst even finishes the sentence), “you don’t worry about these young’uns stealin’ your car. You gotta worry about important things. Like taxes. Taxes!” By now, Vidalia’s howling, tears streaming down her face.

That night, Vidalia dreams. The first one is one of her typical ridiculous dreams—it’s a stupid one about snakes who control the government, but the second dream’s different. The second one feels like it’s real, at least in the beginning—in the dream, she and Amethyst are joyriding again, and they’re laughing on top of the van just like they had earlier that day.

Then it changes—Amethyst turns to Vidalia, says, “You’re an idiot, you know that?” and they’re kissing, and Amethyst tastes somehow inhuman, and Vidalia wants nothing more than to inhale her scent for the rest of her life—

Vidalia wakes up, and the dream reveals itself for what it was—a dream. It’s stupid, really—Vidalia’s not even attracted to women. She’s _not_. Nevermind that Amethyst's not _technically_ a woman; she's close enough. That dream had been ridiculous—straight girls don’t dream about making out with their best friends. Vidalia must have eaten something weird before going to bed. That's all.

The next day, Vidalia calls Amethyst and asks her to come over in order to finish the painting. She does finish the painting, but it’s not good enough. It’s not _Amethyst_.

So she starts another one. And another. Pretty soon, the cramped apartment she calls home is covered floor-to-wall with pictures of Amethyst, but none of them are good enough.

Amethyst’s over modeling for Vidalia again. Currently, she’s gnawing on the rubber tire she’d brought in; Vidalia had wanted to experiment with putting objects in the frame. So far, it’s not working. The painting looks like Amethyst, yes, but it _isn’t_ her. It doesn’t truly capture her vitality.

“This is boring,” says Amethyst after a while, like she usually does. They go joyriding again, like they usually do. That night, Vidalia dreams of Amethyst, like she usually does.

Vidalia can’t get through her apartment anymore thanks to all the pictures, and she doesn’t know how long she can keep this up.

“I like your new look,” says Amethyst one day.

“New look?” asks Vidalia, totally confused. She’s been dressing the same way she always has, and she tells Amethyst so.

“No, no, not your _clothes_. I mean you! You’re bigger. Trying to look like me, huh?” Amethyst giggles, but Vidalia freezes—she’d thought she’d been missing periods due to the stress of creating the perfect painting, but if Amethyst has noticed something, then maybe—

The pregnancy test is positive. Once the two of them are alone in the apartment, Vidalia cries. Amethyst hugs her, which Vidalia’s grateful for even though it’s apparent Amethyst knows practically nothing about what’s just happened.

“So,” says Amethyst once Vidalia’s calmed down, “you’re going to...make...a new human?”

Vidalia laughs weakly despite herself. “No, the human’s already been made. Well, sort of. It’s complicated.”

“And you created it by—”

“Complicated human rituals,” Vidalia says, not really wanting to get into potentially awkward discussions with a member of a different species. “Except I didn’t actually _want_ to create a new human.”

Amethyst scrunches up her forehead, apparently confused.

“Marty’s the father,” says Vidalia. “So the new human is both mine and his.”

“Except he _left town_!” says Amethyst.

"Yeah," Vidalia replies. "Good riddance."

“What a _jerk,_ ” says Amethyst, hitting a nearby wall forcefully. With that, she runs out of the room at top speed.

“Amethyst?” shouts Vidalia. “Where are you going?”

“You’ll see!” replies Amethyst’s voice, and Vidalia hears the sound of the door slam as Amethyst leaves.

Immediately after Amethyst’s left, Vidalia calls Greg, and the two of them talk for a long time.

“You know, Rose is really interested in—well, humans, I guess. Especially children,” says Greg.

“Is she,” replies Vidalia. “How is that supposed to work, with you being human and her—”

“I have no idea,” Greg says, laughing nervously. “But the point is, if you decide to keep the baby—which you don’t have to, of course, it’s entirely your choice—the two of us can definitely help you out with it.”

“I’ll let you know,” says Vidalia, grateful she’s got so many caring friends. “Thanks, Greg.”

“No problem,” he replies, and then he hangs up, leaving Vidalia alone with only her pictures of Amethyst for company.

Vidalia doesn’t have long with them, though—after approximately five minutes, the real version of Amethyst bursts in; she’s gasping, wheezing, and waving a piece of paper in the air.

“Okay,” gasps Amethyst while Vidalia just stares at her, “here’s the plan. We send _this_ ,”—she displays the piece of paper triumphantly—“to Marty. Read it and weep.”

Vidalia takes the paper and begins to examine the writing on it. It reads:

_Dear Farty Marty,_

_I hope you NEVER come to Beach City ever again because me and the other Crystal Gems are going to kick your butt. You BETTER be scared!!_

It goes on in this vein for quite some time.

The end of the letter’s signed, “Not-sincerely yours, Amethyst.” There’s also a P.S. section.

_P.S. I love Vidalia way more than you love Vidalia, so you’re just gonna have to deal with it!! Jerk._

“Amethyst,” says Vidalia, astonished to find that there are tears welling up in her eyes, “Amethyst, I—thank you, I—”

“Ah, don’t mention it,” grins Amethyst.

“No, this is really—I-I don’t know what to say,” stammers Vidalia. “This is—this is—Amethyst, can I kiss you?”

“Uh...sure, I guess,” says Amethyst. “Have at it.”

Vidalia does; Amethyst, though bewildered at first, kisses her back right away, and it’s wonderful, like something out of Vidalia’s dreams.

Later, she paints Amethyst one more time. This time, the painting _finally_ comes out the way she’d wanted it.

“It just needed a little love, I guess,” shrugs Vidalia. Next to her, Amethyst gives the finished product a thumbs-up before shoving one of Vidalia’s worn-down paintbrushes into her mouth and swallowing it whole.

* * *

After Sour Cream’s born (it’s a family name), Amethyst’s over at Vidalia’s place so often that Sour Cream says her name (“Am-e-fist”) before “Mama,” and Vidalia jokes that she’ll never forgive Amethyst for this one.

She’s come to realize that Amethyst may never love her in exactly the same way she loves Amethyst; humans and Gems, after all, are two different species. But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. Amethyst’s here, and they love each other in the best ways that they know how, and that is enough.

“We’ll have to take this little squeaker joyriding sometime,” says Amethyst.

“Absolutely not,” says Vidalia.

“Am-e-fist,” says Sour Cream.

“He totally agrees with me,” says Amethyst, and Vidalia can’t help it; she starts laughing, and then Amethyst joins in, and so does Sour Cream, and in that moment Vidalia doesn’t want to be anywhere else but here with the people she loves.

**Author's Note:**

> The title shares its name with a song by the Killers; the Killers are great.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
